


Last Call for Little Brothers

by velvetcryptid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Season 3, copious alcohol use, glimpse of an oblivious john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7459060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcryptid/pseuds/velvetcryptid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sometimes forgets that Sammy gets emotional when he drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Call for Little Brothers

It's an okay night, he thinks. Macallan in his glass and a girl leaning into his side. He knows better than to just take any girl up on her offer, they oughta be presentable before he gives her a third look-over, unless he feels like waking up in the morning with a rash and all the cash from his wallet missing.

"Sorry, just not feelin' it tonight. My brother on the other hand..." Dean glances over to his right with a smirk, taking his brother's huge hunched shoulders and slanted-eye glower at the beer in front of him.

"No, Dean." Sam sighs out. He couldn't believe he let Dean drag him into the bar right after the vamp nest they took care of.

"C'mon, Sammy! This fine lady- uh," Dean hiccups," wha's your name again?"

"Danielle."

"Danielle! Tha's right. Listen, Sammy, Danielle here is lookin' for a good time and from the look on your face, you sure could use it too."

"This look is on my face for a reason." Sam says, after taking a long sip from his beer. His skin covered in dried sweat and dead man's blood being just some of those reasons.

"All the better reason to. Be nice, Sam, and introduce yourself to Danielle here." Dean downs the rest of his glass. He's going hard on the booze tonight, with good reason. Handling the frail bodies the vamps used as blood cows called for being numb for a night he figured.

Sam gets off his bar stool and grabs Dean by collar of his leather jacket to haul him up, Dean stumbling in the process.

"I don't mean to be rude, but this isn't really a good time for either of us." Sam tells Danielle, holding a flailing Dean in his arms. "Have a good night." He gives her a smile then pushes Dean towards the front of the bar, to the exit. Sam braces for cold air when he pushes open the door.

"What's up with you?" Dean growls over the sound of crunching gravel under his boots as he wrenches himself away from Sam.

"We've both had a long night and she's not your type anyways." He digs his hand into Dean's back pocket and fishes out the Impala's keys.

Sam unlocks the car and shoves Dean into the passenger seat, cutting off his "c'mon man!" by slamming the door. Sliding into the driver's seat and shivering from the night air, Sam starts up the car. Making a three point turn, the Impala glides onto the highway and back to their by-the-hour motel.

"Would it kill you to loosen up a little? And whatd'ya mean 'she's not my type?'" Dean mumbles against the passenger window.

Sam stays silent and watches the ground disappear below them and the pines rush past them, beyond the glow of the headlights. He waits until he hears his brother's snores.

"I mean, she's not me." Sam admits lowly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It's a different town, but all bars look the same to Sam. Dingy lighting, cheap wooden bar stools, and peanut shells strewn across counters. He's been in so many of these since he was old enough to look at least 18.

The main difference in all his corner bar stool memories is Dean; swindling the townies for all they've got at pool since his face lost enough baby fat to look convincingly drunk. In Sam's mind, the men blur together and it's the same green top pool table with Dean growing up around it. Sam always took note of Dean's new tan or a brand new cluster of freckles on his face, depending on how far south Dad took them. The only other thing Sam took note of was whether or not he felt Dad on either seat next to him.

"Watch closely, Sam." Dad once said, "Count how many times he misses to make them _think_ he's a shitshot."

"Yeah." Sam replied with a hidden smirk, watching Dean for other reasons not Dad-approved. He didn't feel like talking to Dad for a while after Dean started wearing Dad's long leather jacket while lining up his shots.

Sam hears a chorus of frustrated groans and Dean's cackle following shortly after and turns to see Dean walking towards him with a crumpled couple of hundreds in his hand. By this time, Sam's old enough to gloom in a corner and have a beer in his hand.

"Get that stick outta your ass, Sam, and live a little would ya?" Dean motions the bartender for two of whatever he had in his empty glass. "I just scored us some _muy dineros_!"

Sam mirrors the bartender's cringe at Dean's telenovela-taught attempt at foreign tongue.

"This is a two for one, by the way," the bartender informs them as he hands Dean the drinks, one in each hand. "couple's night."

Dean gets close enough to his brother to hand him one of the glasses and Sam sees his glistening eyes (is that a new crow's foot?) and catches a whiff of his breath that makes him think that Dean wasn't really faking the drunk part of his pool con.

 _Couple's Night_ echoes in Sam's head as his and Dean's hand brush against each other over the glass.

Sam brings the glass to his lips as Dean wraps an arm around him and says, "That's us alright, happy as can be!"

Sam chokes and liquid spurts out of his mouth as he pulls himself away from his brother and makes a beeline for the exit.

"It was just a joke, Sam!" Dean calls.

"Guess I'm charging you for both." The bartender says to Dean as he wipes up Sam's spittle from the counter.

 

* * *

 

 

"Are you gonna pull those pistols or whistle a dixie?" Dean says along with the TV. He pulls his fingers into pistols and shoots off three shots with a grin. Sam is still glowering into his glass when Dean looks over to make sure he's smiling as well.

"Okay, that's it," Dean presses the mute button, "what's got your panties in a twist?"

Sam looks up from his glass to Dean on his bed.

"What?" Sam asks with squinted eyes.

"You know, I thought staying in tonight to get drunk would cheer my little brother up 'cause going out obviously isn't working." Dean spreads out his arms, beer in hand.

Sam shakes his head. "Well excuse me for not being so upbeat when you've only got a few months left, Dean." He downs his glass.

"Really? That's what's wrong? You've been the one all gung-ho about saving me and never giving up and all that crap, but now suddenly you're doin' your best Eeyor impression?" Sam wobbles as he stands from his bed and grabs his coat. "C'mon, Sam." Being not quite as drunk as Sam, Dean wobbles faster than Sam and blocks the door.

"That's, that's not-" Dean can see a cowboy movie reflected in Sam's wet eyes. Dean cups Sam's cheek and wipes away a tear with his thumb. "That's not all."

Dean swallows and whispers, "Then what, Sam?"

Sam places his hands on Dean's shoulders and rushes him into the door. His mouth crashes on his brother's first, before the rest of his body. The palm that was on Sam's cheek is now carding through his hair, pulling Sam closer. Air flows between them when Sam pulls away and Dean can feel Sam's drying tears on his face.

"No. fuck, I'm sorry," Sam says with his head turned to the ceiling, sniffling. "It's selfish, you're the one who's gonna die and I-" Sam grips his hair with both hands and turns himself toward the TV.

Dean pulls at Sam's shoulder."Sam, no, hey, c'mon, look at me." Sam turns around and Dean wraps his arms around Sam's shoulders and kisses him. Sam whimpers into him and Dean feels Sam's tears fall on his face this time. 

 

* * *

 

 

He's pretty sure his eyes are still red. Dean's arm is laying across his chest and his breath heating the side of his neck. A fresh swell of tears rise out of his eyes. “Did... did I fuck us up?”

Dean looks up at Sam and sees tears run down his temples into his sweat-matted hair. He feels Dean's arm lift off his chest and wipes his tears away. “All those college smarts and you didn't hear a word I said?” Dean presses himself closer to his side.

_“Is this what you want, Sammy?” Dean won't stop looking at him, won't let him turn his head away, “This what got you freaked out?”_

_Sam chokes out a breath as Dean accentuates each  question by grinding their cocks together._

_“No fuckin' need,” Another grunt out of Dean; Sam can smell the beer on his breath. “I want this too. God, I fuckin' wanted you so bad, Sam.”_

_He hugs Dean's neck, feeling the cold metal of his amulet against his chest, as Dean hides his face next to Sam's as he comes._

“But how can I know that you mean that? I know you, Dean. I know you try to make me smile and pretend that everything's going to be okay when I know, I fucking know,” Sam sniffles and can sense Dean growing agitated,” that you're gonna be gone and-”

“Sam,” Dean says with his Older Brother voice and Sam feels another lurch in his stomach. Dean rises on one elbow. “Don't you think I know that? Don't you think that I should be living life to the fullest or _carpe dieming_ or some shit? I want this. I want you.”

“I thought you would hate me if you knew. I felt like I would be taking,” Sam swallows, ”advantage. Of you.”

“Advan- what? Sam, no. I-” Dean breathes out hard through his nose. ”Nebraska. 1998.”

Sam looks Dean in the eyes. “What?”

“You called me and asked how to talk. To girls.” 

Sam squints. “And? What are you trying to say?”

“I'm trying to say: you were 15 and I realized I wasn't gonna be your number one for the rest of my life and I didn't like it. I wanted to drop whatever hunt me and Dad were on and take you from whatever girl that caught your eye. I," Dean swallows a lump, "love you, Sam. Have for a long fuckin' time and I realized I wanted you like this,” Dean waves his hand towards Sam, “that day.” Sam feels himself flush. Dean breathes heavily through his nostrils.

Sam sniffles. "Since I was 15?”

Dean nods. Sam smirks.

“Wow. That's a long time to hide a crush, Dean.”  Dean twists Sam's nipple. Sam bursts out laughing and flails his arms to his chest.

“Yeah, it is, asshole.” Dean settles back to Sam's side and smooths his hand over his chest. “So, we done? You get that this isn't some damn goodbye present?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I believe you.” Sam pauses for a few beats. “This isn't just it, right? This wasn't a one time thing?”

Dean sighs against his chest. “I want this. I want this 'till the end. Until-”  He quiets when Sam pulls on his chin and kisses him.

He's still holding onto Dean's chin and says, “I'm going to save you Dean. I believe you about wanting this. I need you to believe in me, too.”

Dean swallows. “Yeah. Alright, Sam.”

**Author's Note:**

> i did it!!! i broke the 1k mark wooo! the only sex act in the past two fics ive written has been frotting which i promise to mix it up next fic. maybe. once i figure out how assholes work. comments and criticisms are very welcome.
> 
> (12/8/16: looking back, the original last line wasn't really necessary. so i removed it. it was alluding to some rocky roads ahead of them but it feels better with a happy ending)


End file.
